


Compartments

by ava_jamison



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Catwoman (Comics), Catwoman - All Media Types
Genre: BatCat, Gen, Last Rites, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 06:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12743049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ava_jamison/pseuds/ava_jamison
Summary: Bruce is gone. Selina goes to the mansion to pick up some things, and runs into Dick, who's taken Batman's place.





	Compartments

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place during the comic run Last Rites, a time when Bruce was dead. (He got better.)  
> Here's a scan from Last Rites: https://www.flickr.com/photos/140948572@N08/38447348631/  
> and another one: https://www.flickr.com/photos/140948572@N08/37572436175/

She paused, bag in hand, when the door to Bruce’s room opened. Thankfully Dick wasn’t… in uniform. She really couldn’t take that right now, and especially not right here.

“Sorry.” Her eyes flicked to the window she’d used to get in. “You’ve changed the codes.”

“Bruce changed the codes all the time.” 

“There was … a pattern.”

“Really?” He sounded honestly surprised. 

“Really.” She watched him try to work that one out. It’s not like she was going to say more. And if Bruce used one of their own secrets to program the sensor on his bedroom window, that was Bruce’s business. 

 

They were alike that way. Private. Compartmentalized. 

She closed the closet. Luckily, the panel in the nightstand had been the first thing she’d hit when she got in, and it hadn’t taken long.

Dick eyed the bag in her hand. “So what are you taking?”

“A couple of things.”

He looked… tense. Tired. Older than the last time she’d seen him. He crossed his arms, sighed. “And that’s as specific as you’re planning to be?”

Trust me, she wanted to tell him. It’s as specific as you, me or Bruce want it to get. Aloud she just said, “Yes.” 

He frowned. 

“And I’ll bring it back as soon as he’s back.”

“Catwom—”

“Or, you know, he’ll come and—” She was rambling now. She hated when she rambled so she turned toward the window. Time to get out. “Didn’t know if you were going to move in here or what and…”

“He’d be pretty pissed to come back and find me taking over his bedroom.”

She let out a breath that she didn’t know she’d been holding. Let the relief wash over her. Dick’s almost using the present tense.

“Bad enough that I’m driving his cars. Scratched the jag yesterday.”

She finally let herself smile. “He’ll be…” and she hates that she’s still scared, that the pain and the loss make it so hard, but she’s not giving up. “Proud of you.” She turned to leave.

“Hey, just a minute.” Dick opened the top drawer of Bruce’s dresser and pulled out something. Bruce’s wallet. “I was looking for something and…” 

There was a cut in the lining. Precise and invisible until Dick’s fingers slid into the opening. And pulled out a picture. 

“Oh.” It was them. Egypt, how many years ago? Bruce, sunlight bouncing off his old aviator sunglasses, her in that pink top and big floppy hat because they were playing tourist. Only for a couple of days, and only after taking care of the real reason they found themselves on that side of the world, but still. 

She shouldn’t be smiling and trying to cry at the same time, damn it.

Dick pushed the picture toward her and she shook her head. 

He nodded, his lips quirking up in a lopsided smile of his own, and put it back in the little compartment Bruce had made for it, then back in the drawer.

“Bruce’ll want it when he comes back.”


End file.
